


Future Imperfect

by monicawoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Dark Sam Winchester, Episode: s05e04 The End, Gen, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 17:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16100309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monicawoe/pseuds/monicawoe
Summary: Written for the prompt: The End AU (5.04) Dean is sent to Zachariah's vision of the future, only instead of the Croatoan virus having destroyed the world he finds the world ravaged by demons and Hell's creatures, lead by Sam himself.





	Future Imperfect

Dean reads the date on the military sign again, his unease growing. “The future. Zachariah sent me to the future?” The gate to the restricted military zone is in shambles, torn open as though by a giant, clawed hand. Dean walks through and finds a fire—a stinking, heaping pile of—Dean can’t even make out what’s in the flames, but the stench of it tells him everything he needs to know. 

There’s a screeching sound from above him, like an eagle or—he looks up, strains to see through the heavy smoke, but he sees it —something like a vulture, only much, much larger, with wings more bat-like than avian. It swoops down and snatches a piece of something from the ground. There’s more of them up there, circling, right above him.

“We’ve redecorated a bit,” says a woman’s voice. 

Dean whips his head around and his mouth goes dry with shock. “Bela?”

Her eyes light up red. “That was my name, once.”

“What happened here? What happened to you? To—everything?” Dean cracks his knuckles, trying to keep himself grounded, but it’s getting harder by the second. “Was it Lucifer?”

“Lucifer?” Bela laughs, loud and sharp. “Sam killed him first.”

“Sam killed Lucifer?” Dean asks, confusion growing. His working theory’s been blown out of the water.

Bela cants her head to the side, listening. “It’s been nice chatting, darling. But I’ve got to run. I’d wish you good luck, but well—what’s the point?” Her eyes flare red once more, and she vanishes. 

Dean hears it in the sky first, and then feels it echoed beneath his feet, a deep growl like the rolling of thunder, but from everywhere. It rattles his bones up to his teeth, and his hair stands on edge. Someone’s coming.

The vulture-bat things have stopped, suspended in the air, spindly wings stuck mid-stroke. Everything’s stopped. Even the smoke from the fire is stock-still.

Sam appears, right in front of Dean. He’s different. Taller, somehow, than Dean remembers, and broader. And his eyes are a bright, golden yellow.

“Sam,” Dean says. It’s not a question, because he knows Sam isn’t possessed, can feel the truth of it in his gut. 

Sam flicks two fingers out and the air next to Dean shimmers. The Impala’s there—beautiful and perfect and whole. Not a speck of rust. 

“Kept her spotless for you. Full tank of gas.”

Dean swallows, can’t tell just what the catch is yet, though he’s sure there is one. “Thanks.” He struggles to keep his voice steady, forces himself to hold Sam’s eerie gaze, “Can’t say I like what you’ve done with the rest of the place.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Sam says, his mouth curving into a lopsided smirk.

“Didn’t figure you for the destroyer of worlds type, Sammy.”

Sam’s jaw twitches. The nickname still annoys him. Good.

“This isn’t just destruction, Dean. It’s razing the old to make way for the new. A better world. No more Hell, no more Heaven, no more souls stuck in an endless tug of war. There’s only one kingdom now.” His eyes glow brighter. “Mine.”

Dean tries to think of a comeback, but he can’t—can’t reconcile the Sam in front of him with the little brother he thought he knew. What happened in the years he missed? What the fuck happened?

“I happened,” Sam says.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says. “Sam, I’m—“

“Time’s up.” Sam rolls his shoulders back, and the fire behind him starts burning once more; the sky above is an endless, hungry stormbank. “Get in the car. I’ll give you a thirty second head-start.”

“What?” Dean’s gut drops into his toes, as the Impala’s engine starts. “What do you—“ he can’t get the rest of the words out because there’s a ticking in his head, loud and demanding—a countdown complete with embedded instructions: _Run. Hide. The angel that sent you here isn’t coming back for you. But I am._


End file.
